Fuzzbuds for Spring

With winter's coil slowly melting, the trees have begun to rejuvenate; life renewing itself after a 7th month dormant slumber.  Whilst first glance might give the impression of a fuzzy insect, these fuzzbuds are actually just another step in life's renewal.  Before too long, the metamorphosis from bud to brilliant green leaf will occur, and the weary poet will be able to sit a spell, daydream under the canopy of nature and create a soliloquy or sonnet to honor nature's mysterious rebirth.

"...Consume this hesitation of not knowing. Never doubt, Only walk forward. Love everything,
For that is why you are here."
Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche-Fortunate Birth

Amber waves of grain

What are your thoughts on the American Dream?  In this day and age does it even exist?  Ask the American Farmer.  They're  not just  cliché or catchy advertisement mantra to sell superbowl commercial time.  The American Farmer is the bread of life in this country.  He struggles, day in and out, to provide for his family.  He's the true patriot; prays to God for a bountiful crop, a good market value for his life's work so that at the end of the day he can put food on his own family's table.  The fiber that strings this mighty nation together isn't some stooge in Washington, D.C.  No, the strength of this nation is the man in dirty coverall, working 20+ days, and laying his head down every night, praying for rain, a crop and the love of his family.  Those are the makings of amber waves of grain.

"From dawn 'til dusk, my weary bones in these fields of gold,  I do toil.  Sweat from by brow, dust on my face, for these dreams of gold, I do chase. Not for riches, not for fame, to feed this country, is my true aim.  I am a farmer, American made"  - John McArthur 4/12/13

The Call of the Wild

Canine or wolf?  Maybe even a rascal coyote?  I came upon this imperious pillar during my travels in Routt County, Colorado.  Was the artist of this piece trying to convey some sort of honor to all things DOG, or maybe even honoring the "call of the wild"?  I'd like to believe that inside all of us vagabond travelers lies a small cache of adventure that beckons us to howl at the moon from time to time - Even more enticing, to follow our soul beyond our comfort zone and relinquish to the mighty call of the wild!

"My spirit surges forward, running through wet grass.  Suddenly the call of the wild beckons me to stop.  Heavy breathing, lungs expanding, whirlwind of scent through my nostrils - the aura of the forest entices me.  I am free."  ann mcarthur 

Whistle Me Dixie

One of the more entertaining creatures in this region is the "Whistle Pig".  While this little fellow does indeed whistle, he no where near resembles a pig.  Their main task is to drive our dogs crazy; whistling away, while the dogs desperately try to find them.  The Whistle Pig is a clever little rodent, dodging in and out of its' rock hideouts.  I suspect the creatures sit back, in whistle pig groups, and instead of Saturday Night Live, it's Watch the Dog Run In Circles.

Curiousity for Equines

Curious.  Pull up your saddle and listen a bit to the stories that a horse can tell.  These 2 equine friends came to their fence line and delivered me an interesting tale, or should we say "tail".  An early morning drive toward Yampa, Colorado was well worth it.  These 2 characters were holding court.  Sadly, there was no other horses near them. So, one did the talking, while the other stood sentry.  It's relieving to know I was spared; at least this Sunday

 

Conclaves of fowl, fun and freedom

The exigency of any creature, other than man, is the ability to reap some mirth, but remain cautious as to the perils of everyday life.  The trending notion is that of co-existence.  Creatures seem willing to prevail, without being too foxy; sadly unable to enjoy the palace of nature in its full worth. Obviously, on this particular day, the photographer was able to break through the bulwark, and seize a glimpse of this blue grouse through the tall blades of wild grasses.  It was with glee that I, the grouse, was spared a bullet to the breast, and left alive to rout the stalks of grass, searching for a bug or two for dinner.